Onsterfelijkblad
by Pluperfect Pear
Summary: [Hangs head] After weeks of not posting... I've still come up dry. I'm stuck in a rut, and it isn't just minor bloackage either, oh no. It's full-blown constipation. So, until further notice, this story will go by the wayside.
1. Prologue: Hidden Agendas

New content! Thank you D for the constructive criticism. After a reread I decided to-  
  
Toss in a bit of background on Isa.  
  
Take out "ho-hum".  
  
Separate the first paragraph into little blocks.  
  
Add a little more detail at the very end.  
  
Keep in mind that I'm not going to give away everything just yet. Oh, and as far as race goes think color and not shape as a means to give away who Isa is. I'm going to write her as an entirely different race, so her skin color would be a dead giveaway to identify her.  
  
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An alchemist labored in a forge one moonless night. As he carefully divided equal parts of ingredients into separate bowls the forge next to him burned. This was no ordinary forge however. It was located in Dagoth Ur and burned the finest, blackest ebony and the strongest souls of lesser Daedra. After pouring the ingredients into the forge along with the molten ebony the man then turned his attention to the half finished scimitar at his side.   
  
A core of diamond had been set on a Daedric handle and was awaiting its completion. The ebony in the forge congealed after the ingredients had been added enough for the man to pull the glowing lump out of the fire. He set it on a nearby anvil and placed the core in the center of the ebony. For hours he beat at the mass of metal, folding it over onto itself. It spurt blood with each blow of the hammer, and howls of pain issued from the ebony every so often.   
  
Eventually, the man sat sharpening the scimitar on a whetstone as rubies melted. After he achieved his desired sharpness for the weapon on both sides the man applied the liquid ruby and set it in a cold water bath. Another sharpening and a dip in an acid pool and the weapon was finished.   
  
It was a beautiful piece. No other weapon in Tamriel could boast its blackness. Crimson runes and other markings were dotted along the blade as an after product of the Daedric armoring process. It had been made a double-edged weapon with a ruby coating on the blades to enhance the sharpness.   
  
As the man admired his work an ascended sleeper walked into his chamber. The man pulled the scimitar from the pool of water and began to dry it. He then placed it in a mundane scabbard and handed it to the sleeper. The sleeper in turn handed the man a large sack filled with gemstones and gold.   
  
The sleeper teleported from the room and into the Heart Chamber where Dagoth Ur stood. At his appearance Ur turned to face his minion and saw that the weapon he asked for had been completed.   
  
"Fetch her, and bring her to Me." his voice boomed.  
  
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Isa walked swiftly along the cobblestone'd roads of Balmora. Her shoes made a soft thumping sound as she twisted and turned her way out of the back gates. Her living was made as a thief, and she was wanted in Mournhold for the attempted robbery of Helseth's prized possessions. She managed to escape with her life, but wasn't terribly happy with her haul of nothing. She turned her hooded head around and saw a small hoard of bonemold and pinks (Royal Guards) some yards behind her. After clearing the back gates Isa broke into a run at full speed along the road. She hadn't planned on being chased that night.   
  
Looking for rest, Isa stopped in the Lucky Lockup for a drink. She wasn't a native of Balmora, but as much as she frequented the stony city she may as well have been. She had moved from Tel Aruhn to join the Thieves Guild as a means to escape the Telvanni lifestyle. She wasn't much of a mage to begin with, and the lavish, inflated persona that came with being Telvanni didn't interest her.   
  
While she sipped her drink a Khajiit next to her had been regaling her with a tale of how he escaped the vice of an Altmer in Vivec. The front door opened and metallic footsteps were heard. She looked up and saw a Hlaalu and Royal guard enter. Realizing that law enforcement set aside its differences to come after her she politely detached herself from the Khajiit and left via the stairs. Guards were swarming the city, asking loiterers if they'd seen anyone that matched her description. Surely, if they had seen a hooded stranger leave through the front gates they'd suspect her. So, she had had no choice but to go through the city.  
  
As she passed Meldor's shop a Hlaalu guard had tried to catch her attention. She kept moving forward, trying to pretend that she hadn't heard him. Unfortunately, the guard had caught a slight glimpse of her jaw and had guessed at her race. The other guards were alerted of course, and the chase was on.  
  
Isa threw her cloak off into the water and went the opposite direction. She watched her false clue throw off the guards and gave a sigh of relief. She couldn't go back to Balmora, due to the uproar at her great escape. So, she decided to head north to Caldera and take the guild guide to Ald-Ruhn. From there she would proceed to Khuul, and then to Solstheim. The Nords could care less if she was a robber or not, just as long as she didn't rob them.  
  
As Isa made her way along the road something felt strange. It was the classic syndrome of feeling watched with nobody in sight. She shrugged and continued to walk, eyes averted to the ground. The road sign at the upcoming fork exploded violently as something from behind her attacked it. Snapping to attention, Isa spun around to face her would-be opponent. Amid the process of drawing her wakizashi she saw a burst of white and felt a searing pain crawl down her spine. 


	2. Chapter 1: A New Life

Huzzah, I've gotten good reviews so far, AND hints of a reader following with this one. But anyway, I realize it's been two chapters, and we still don't know what Isa is. First thing next chapter I'll reveal her race.

And yes, I also realize that I've sort of ripped off Harry Potter with the painful tattoo bit, but I couldn't think of any other creative ways to emphasize her newfound Sixth House connections.

Most of the characters/places/etc. herein are owned by Bethesda Softworks. The only things I own are the main characters and the plot line. Woe!

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A loud and hallow clunk caused Isa to abruptly sit up from the bed she was lying in. Bed... wait just one moment. Where am I, she thought to herself as she groggily sat up. Isa's mind reeled. Her last memories were running out of Balmora and then calmly walking to Caldera, until the signpost got blown up. Was she near the culprit that had been following her? Why was she in a dark room on an unmade bed? Standing, determined albeit slightly tottering, she made her way out of the small chamber. Isa soon realized that she was in a Dwemer ruin, and a hot one at that. A layer of dust covered the floor in most places, and it wafted into Isas' nostrils as she wandered the corridors. It was a rancid smelling dust, musty and heavy in her sinuses.

As she turned the corner she bumped into a golden saint. Isa reached for her wakizashi, but was shocked to find that it was gone. Panicking, she held out her hands to attempt to cast a spell, but found her wrists wore a pair of slave bracers. Finally, she did the one thing she was truly good at: running. In her panic, what she didn't realize was the golden saint wasn't going to attack her. Instead, it just stared after her with its head cocked to one side in confusion.

Isa ran blindly, at a great disadvantage in the unfamiliar territory. She flew down a set of stairs and through one of the metal doors, only to come face to face with an ascended sleeper. After somewhat of a struggle the sleeper was dragging Isa kicking and screaming through the ruins. As a thief she never imagined that her life would end in such a way. Perhaps a homeowner would catch her robbing them. Or, a rogue smuggler or wizard would end her life after she ventured in one cave too many. There also was the possibility of dying during hard labor in prison. But, not being a savvy adventurer, Isa never imagined that she would be maimed by one of Dagoth Ur's servants.

The pair went through a wooden cavern door to a large, fairly empty room. Chairs were piled on top of tables in the corners, and a cabinet sat near another opening in front of them. The last thing Isa noticed was the ash vampire standing before them, but when she did she let out a yelp of fear and struggled with more zeal against her captor.

"By the Divines, would you stop raving?" Dagoth Gilvoth said shaking his turbaned head, "Now that you've brought her you may leave." He said turning his attention to the sleeper. With a bizarre sort of bow the ascended sleeper turned and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"You must be wondering why I haven't butchered you yet." Gilvoth said.

Isa, who had begun to tremble, stopped. That was a very good point he had brought up, "Well, it is a bit of a surprise to find myself still living."

"Lord Dagoth has been watching you from your birth. Have you ever read the series The Poison Song?"

Isa shook her head and Gilvoth continued, "I thought not, considering your poor lifestyle. It's the story of a boy who was born into the Sixth House, but following its disbanding he was moved. He lived the better part of his life under a lie, but one day in his childhood he discovered the truth about his birth. His aunt helped to nurture his growing understanding of his roots, and he eventually moved from what he knew as home to do the bidding of his Lord."

"So," Isa began cautiously, "What does this have to do with me?"

"As you know, Lord Dagoth has lived for many generations. When you were born he traced your bloodline back to one of the founding members of the Sixth House."

"Are you telling me that my life is nothing more than a mockery of a piece of fiction?" Isa said outraged. As Gilvoth told her the story she put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.

"It is a very noble life. Which is why you were brought here. You posses great skill, and you will take part in bringing the Tribunal Temple to its knees."

Isa laughed then, despite herself. She didn't find what Gilvoth was saying to be humorous, only confusing. In her mind no coherent words could encompass her reaction, so she only laughed.

"And how do you expect me to do that?" she asked once she managed to move her mouth to make words.

"The Heart of Lorkhan grants immortality to those that would use it properly. What Lord Dagoth has had made for you isn't nearly as powerful as the Heart itself. Should you try and defy Him He could easily strike you down, but to mere mortals you will be practically a god."

Gilvoth walked over to the cabinet and pulled forth a sword in its sheath. He handed it to Isa, who looked at it with mild interest.

"Go ahead, take a closer look at it." Gilvoth said crossing his arms and adopting a complacent look on his face.

Things had been going fairly decent for Isa thus far, and she certainly didn't want to arouse anything that would endanger her life. She grabbed the hilt of the blade with her left hand and pulled it from the sheath. Almost immediately she could feel new levels of power begin to run through her body. Everything seemed to pale in the wake of her new omnipotence as she examined the blade.

"So, what makes this thing so powerful?" Isa asked as she gained her bearings from the sudden power surge.

"It was forged with alchemical ingredients that promote immortality. The main one residue from the Heart itself. Only when you carry it unsheathed will you feel its power, and much like the moon-and-star of Nerevar only you can wield it."

It all seemed so surreal to Isa. One day she was running from the law, and then the next day she finds she's an all-powerful descendant of an ancient Sixth House noble.

"What if I refuse to follow orders?" she asked.

"Oh, that's quite impossible. Look on your right shoulder blade." Gilvoth instructed.

Isa peeled her shirt down (She was in rags at the time) and found a tattoo of an insect that resembled a beetle.

"The very moment that you disobey orders that tattoo will cause you pain. I highly recommend you listen to your superiors. By the way," Gilvoth said returning to the cabinet. He returned to Isa with a small stack of clothes and a pair of Daedric boots and gauntlets, "You'll need some type of protection as you're aiding our House in the downfall of the Temple. Along with your sword Lord Dagoth had a seamstress armorer make you these. The finest silks woven with adamantium and ebony. After you change you will report to Gnisis for your first orders."

Gilvoth left Isa to change alone. She looked into the surface of a broken mirror when she was finished changing and had to admit that her new outfit looked sharp. Her clothing matched the color of the armor pieces. The overcoat she was given came down mid-thigh, and the metal buttons shone in the dull light in two columns down her front.

Isa managed to navigate her way out of the citadel and stepped out into the tumultuous ash near the mouth of Red Mountain. Her mind focused only slightly as she fought off the blighted creatures. Her entire life had been spent in uncertainty, and now that it had a path of sorts she couldn't help but feel a little bit frightened with her new life as Dagoth Isa.


	3. Chapter 2: Unraveling Loose Ends

As I said last chapter, this is the one where we finally learn what race Isa is! Also, I'm introducing the second main character. Be sure to let me know if the switching back and forth between the two doesn't read smoothly.

Also, whenever things are in ()'s it usually means it's an aside from myself, or it's something that just isn't worth elaborating on. Anyway, enjoy!

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"You're looking for an Ayleid female. She is the average height of an Imperial male, has braided black hair and brown eyes, and is commonly seen wearing commoners' clothing. Her weapon of choice is an iron wakizashi and she has a reputation as a thief throughout Morrowind."

Caelestis Quintus listened intently to Tienius Delitian as he rattled off his orders. Caelestis was an Imperial male nearing mid-life. At an early age he joined the Imperial Legion, and upon becoming a Knight Protector he wanted more out of life still. He'd heard of Mournhold and Helseth's Royal Guard, and needless to say his interest had been piqued. Caelestis moved to Mournhold as quickly as he could gather his meager possessions and what little gold he had. Years of military service left him with a stony countenance, a sinewy physique and graying hair.

"She was last sighted in Morrowind." Tienius continued, "In Balmora. She was sighted around two days ago on foot, so she can't have gotten far. You will report to Balmora and conference with witnesses of her escape that night. You're one of our best trackers, Quintus, so His Majesty isn't expecting you to come back empty-handed."

After the near-successful robbery Helseth's reputation had been tarnished. Peasants on the streets mocked his authority, and when Barenziah spoke on his behalf things were made worse. He was no longer seen as the powerful, yet tyrannical monarch he came to Mournhold as. His following shifted over to the Temple, or to crime. While on the subject of the Temple let's not neglect to mention that even they mocked Helseth, despite their claims of being humble and polite. The High Ordinators made remarks as they passed the Royal Guards while on duty, and in some extreme cases brawls among the factions would erupt.

Caelestis was happy to be returning to Morrowind. He had spent nearly a decade away form the island and was looking forward to returning to his hometown of Seyda Neen.

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The denizens of the Ghostgate Temple eyed Isa with some discretion.

"Can I help you, Sera?" the head priestess Uvoo Llaren asked.

"I would like to purchase a scroll of Divine Intervention, please." Isa replied, her voice slightly raucous from ash inhalation.

"I'm sorry, but I can only serve members of the Temple. If you like, I can provide you with locations that offer similar services."

The tattoo on Isa's shoulder blade began to itch and creep, "I think it would be in your best interest to turn over possession of one petty scroll."

When she walked in, Isa appeared to be pleasant enough, but those in the large circular room noticed her disposition sink dramatically. Her head hung slightly forward and her eyes were blank.

"Are you feeling well?" Uvoo asked, reaching a hand out to Isa.

Isa couldn't quite figure it out, but for some reason the sound of the woman's voice infuriated her just then. Her hand wandered over to the hilt of her scimitar and grasped it uncertainly. She could feel her mind being overridden by an outside source, and the more she tried to fight it the tighter her grip became on the weapon.

Isa suddenly began feeling pressed for time. She _had_ to get to Gnisis at all costs. In one gliding motion the scimitar came forth and through Uvoo's breast. The Dunmer landed with a dull thud in the circular ash pit.

Those in the room at the moment began attacking Isa, of course. She could feel the metals in her clothing conducting the heat and frost of their spells, but she felt no pain. Isa mused on all of the possibilities of her newfound prowess while her opponents wasted their mana. Gilvoth wasn't kidding, she thought to herself with mild amusement; I _am_ practically immortal with this thing. She looked at the scimitar with mixed idolatry and curiosity. Isa heard a small voice in the back of her mind tell her to look right, and when she did she saw one of the priests coming at her with staff raised. She caught the pole with her empty hand and delivered a sidekick to the stomach of her opponent, thus disarming them.

While the priest caught his breath on the ground Isa became coherent of her surroundings. Her mind free, she realized that her short-lived killing spree couldn't go on. Isa dashed over to the corpse and rummaged through its belongings, tossing potions aside and frantically unrolling the scrolls and scanning their scripts. She heard footsteps coming from the Tower of Dawn and surmised that the other priest must have gone for help. The door crashed open and the metallic footsteps of the Ordinators were heard running toward her.

At last, Isa found the correct scroll. She turned away from the Ordinators in a last ditch attempt to hide her face and cast the piece of parchment. She could feel her body being pulled away from the Ghostgate Temple, and moments later she landed face-first in front of the Buckmoth Imperial Shrine.

"You're a mess. Are you inebriated by chance?" one of the Imperial officers asked.

While still in Red Mountain something told Isa to don her trademark hooded cloak, and now she was thankful for that "something". Had her hood not been up the guards would have recognized her, and more bloodshed didn't bode well with her.

Isa ignored the guards' comment, instead deciding to leave rather than play the dozens. Too lazy to walk around the craggy landscape, she simply struggled against the slopes. After a messy slide down a hill she noticed a figure standing some feet away from her. She neared it, and realized that it was a Dunmer man, clad only in brown pants and with a layer of filth covering him.

When he noticed her he prostrated himself, "Hail! Heir to Lord Dagoth Ur, hail!"

"Stop that," Isa said looking around nervously, "You're going to attract attention. And for the Gods' sakes, get off of your knees!"

"Dagoth Isa, the Nerevarine is coming to Morrowind! You must slay him before he realizes his destiny! You must go to Gnisis!"

Isa deemed the man as raving, "That's where I'm going," she said placing one booted foot on his forehead, "But I won't make it there if I keep running into outlandish characters like yourself."

With an annoyed push of her foot Isa knocked the man onto his back and proceeded to the silt-strider.

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Caelestis sat bored as he listened to the Khajiit tell his story.

"Yes, Dro'Irrah knows of the Elf you speak. Dro'Irrah does not know her name, but he does know that she came here often. For an Elf she was very kind to Dro'Irrah. She would listen to him whenever he had a tale to tell. She kept to herself mostly."

"What type of Elf was she?" Caelestis asked.

"Dro'Irrah does not know. Her skin was green, like an Orc. But other than that she looked like any other Elf."

"What did she do for a living?"

"She was a thief. I haven't seen her since her last job though."

At this last statement Caelestis looked up, "Last job?"

"Oh yes," Dro'Irrah began, stroking his whiskers, "She is the head of the Thieves' Guild, she sees over several jobs. This one was personal Dro'Irrah thinks. A great heist, outside of Morrowind. She said that if she pulled it off the Thieves' Guild would be able to work its way out of the Comanna Tongs' grip."

Without a word Caelestis rose from his seat and exited the Lucky Lockup. At the mention of "personal job" he knew that Dro'Irrah was talking about his desired quarry. He made his way to Fort Moonmoth to relay his findings to Tienius via a messenger. As he walked he noticed some commotion in the courtyard.

"What seems to be the trouble?" he asked the guard captain, who was frantically relaying orders to soldiers.

"Ah, a Royal Guard! There's been an attack at the Ghostgate Temple!"


	4. Chapter 3: New Leads

(Grr, formatting problems...) Heh, thank you. Yes, the title works with the story. It's... Norwegian I believe. Means "Immortal Blade" or something to that effect. To clear up the Dunmer/Ayleid problem: It says somewhere in 2920, The Last Year of the First Era that Ayleids have an olive complexion while Dunmer lean more toward the blue of the spectrum.   
  
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By the time Isa made it to Gnisis the sun was rising on a new day nearly a week from when she first left Balmora. How long she had been on Red Mountain she was unsure of, but she certainly was feeling the effects of something new awakening within her. At first she credited the odd feeling to her stinging tattoo and the mind control incident, but after some thinking she realized those weren't the culprits.   
  
She paid the gondolier and walked into town. Few people were out at such an early hour, save for some chain mail-clad guards and two or three street vendors. Isa looked idly around at the insects flying dangerously close to still-burning torches and listened to the gurgling of the stream behind her. It was the first bit of peace she had had in days, but before she could appreciate it a stranger hailed her from near Arvs-Drelen.   
  
"Welcome, Dagoth Isa." He said.   
  
"I suppose _you're_ who I'm going to be taking orders from?" Isa asked eyeing the stranger.   
  
"Dagoth Hentus. Yes, you will receive two orders from me today, but you won't take action until after night falls. Until then, exit town on the way to Ald Velothi and stop at Arkngthunch-Sturdumz to rest. All homicidal animunculi have been stamped out, provisions are available and clean water has been provided. I'm sure you wish to bathe."   
  
If Hentus wouldn't have pointed it out Isa could have gone weeks with the thick layer of red ash caked in her hair and on her skin.   
  
She laughed, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of her neck, "Yeah, well..."   
  
"I thought so. Now, you'd better get going before you make a scene." Hentus said wandering off in the direction of the cave dwellings.   
  
The trip itself was a fairly uneventful one. Occasionally, a rat would jump out at Isa threateningly. She chuckled and continued on, letting them bite at her heels until they tired of chipping their minute fangs on her boots. The sky overhead was cerulean blue and thin wisps of white and (Occasionally) pink clouds were scantily spread across the sky. The air seemed lighter in Isa's nostrils, but that was partly due to the fact that most of the ash in her sinuses had drained down her throat by this point.   
  
The entire time she walked Isa didn't see how she would "make a scene". But, shortly after her arrival she felt a burning sensation begin to afflict the left side of her body. With good reason too, seeing as flames had suddenly spurt from where the pain was coming from. Panicking, she stripped off her obstructive clothing to get a better look at her situation. As suddenly as they had come the flames were gone, and in their wake icicles tore through her skin from her right arm. Just like the flames before, the icicles faded and made way for a jet of acid to come from spraying from her neck.   
  
For the next few minutes various forms of harmful magicka bombarded her, and once the blinding pain subsided Isa was able to think coherently. She reasoned that the sudden attack was due to the Temple struggle from the day before. Standing, she wandered the corridors until she found a room that had been set up for her. A trunk was at the foot of a small, unmade bed and several sacks and bags lined the walls. She dug through the trunk and discovered several healing potions of all types and, with rapidity; she quaffed three and poured countless on her wounds. As her mind cleared up she reasoned that whatever damage she took on while wielding her scimitar she would have to make up for later.   
  
Satisfied, Isa stood and examined where her wounds had appeared. Instead, she found the afore-mentioned ash from earlier. She went over to the sacks and found bars of sload soap in one. After more wandering Isa found barrels of water in a separate room. She threw her clothes in one along with a bar of soap and filled a basin with water from another barrel.   
  
After a hasty, albeit thorough scrubbing Isa was feeling more alert. She threw on some plain robes that she had found and decided to look for food after her stomach gave a loud rumble. In yet another room there were crates of "food". Most of it was corprus meat, but there was the occasional mushroom, ash yam, or bittergreen petals. After eating all of the edibles that weren't touching the raw corprus meat Isa still wasn't satisfied.   
  
She prodded a hunk of wrapped meat with a nearby tube, "Not if my survival depended on it." She said, thinking of how ironic that comment sounded.   
  
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Caelestis rode on guarback north along the Foyada Mamaea. Once the officers of Moonmoth realized that he was more experienced than even Varus Vatinius himself they had him lead the investigation on Ghostgate. Being "royalty", the other soldiers fought off the creatures that attacked the convoy as they moved. The "convoy" consisted of Caelestis, a few armed guards and a couple priests from the Imperial Cult. As they drew closer to Ghostgate an ash storm blew in and slowed their progress. Finally, the group entered the security of the Tower of Dusk.   
  
"You, go and question the Ordinators here," Caelestis said pointing to one of the officers, "You will go to the Tower of Dawn and do the same. I saw a small Ashlander settlement on the way up here, so the remaining guards will handle them. And the priests will come with me."   
  
Issuing orders wasn't anything new for Caelestis. While still in the Legion he had led several raids on insurgents, smugglers and other unsavory characters. A simple interrogation would blow over smoothly.   
  
"Okay, you priests get started on clearing away that corpse." Caelestis said to the priests, "Now, would you mind explaining what happened here yesterday?" he asked the priest who had fought Isa and had been spared.   
  
"Well," he began, "This cloaked stranger walked in and was asking for a Divine Intervention scroll. A lot of pilgrims usually stop by here for services, but it's against our doctrine to offer them. There are services provided in the two Towers, but the Temple is reserved for faction members only."   
  
"What race was this stranger by chance?"   
  
"Oh, we could see her face. Some type of Elf, olive green skin."   
  
"I see... So, what happened when the services were refused?"   
  
"This lady seemed very polite and soft-spoken at first, but then all of a sudden she acted like she was in a trance. She was quiet for a few moments, and when Uvoo asked if she was feeling well this Elf pulled out a sword and ran her through."   
  
"What happened then?"   
  
The priest rubbed the place where he had been kicked and continued, "We all attacked her with our magic."   
  
"What type of spells were they?"   
  
"Destruction. We were shooting to kill. This woman though... It was like she was immune to all of our attacks. Another one of the priests shot a jet of acid at her; hit her right in the throat. Didn't faze her. It was like she was a ghost or something."   
  
"So, what happened when all of your mana ran out?"   
  
"I was in the Fighters' Guild before I joined the Temple. I thought to myself, I could take this woman. She looked pretty frail and didn't have any backup, so I took out my staff and figured I could give her a solid blow to the head and knock her out at least. But, just as I was bringing it down on her head she caught it and booted me in the stomach. It was a good kick too, and to top it off she was wearing Daedric boots."   
  
Just then the gaggle of guards filed into the room from both sides.   
  
"The Ashlanders saw someone come out of the gates and go into the Tower of Dawn, but they didn't see them come back out." One of the guards said.   
  
"And the Ordinators said the stranger used a scroll to escape." Another guard replied.   
  
Caelestis stared at one of the shrines and thought about the new details. From the very beginning of this case the woman he was after was only a thief. It didn't make sense that she would all of a sudden go on a killing spree. There was something else to it that wasn't adding up.   
  
"Is there anything missing on that corpse?" Caelestis asked one of the priests.   
  
"Well, from the looks of her inventory, one Divine Intervention scroll."   
  
"Would you mind transporting us to Fort Hawkmoth?" Caelestis asked the shaken priest, "We have some more people to question." 


	5. Chapter 4: Masks

I'm not really a pro with lore, the Ayleid fact just sort of stood out. I was getting tired of the commonly used races, so I figured I'd go for something different. This chapter was written in a bit of haste, so please tell me if it sounds a bit... choppy. Danke!

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The sky overhead was moonless and covered with thick clouds that night. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and brush occasionally, causing Isa to root to a spot on the ground and look around frantically. The stillness of the night in conjunction with her first orders was making her a touch fearful. Her feet numbly carried her to Gnisis, under bridges and past dancing shadows. When the stone archway came into view her heart leapt up to her throat and began to pound furiously. A torch was moving side to side and Isa thought it was a guard, but as she approached she saw it was Hentus.

"Let's get this over with." She said to Hentus.

"Lord Dagoth tells me you're slightly anxious. After tonight you won't need your mind to be controlled to act out the work of His will. Before you act you must put these on." He said, handing her a set of heavy brown robes.

"What exactly am I going to be doing?"

"You must take on the appearance of a pauper in order to make our plans less conspicuous. I have taken the liberty of infecting the devout Tribunal followers with ash-chancre. As planned, they are all recovering in the Temple, and they are all too weak to move from their beds. The plan is pretty straightforward: you will go in and burn the building down from the inside. But first, you will slaughter the head priest."

"Let me get this straight," Isa snorted with disbelief, "You want me to _burn the temple_? Doesn't that seem just a bit _too _obvious?"

"The plan is to weaken the will of the followers. Lord Dagoth's plans may not make sense to you now, but in time you will come to appreciate them. When you are done here you will head to Suran for your next orders."

Without another word Hentus snuffed his torch and skulked out of town, leaving Isa to try and figure out how to stealthily burn down the temple. A small voice in the back of her mind told her that this operation wasn't meant to be done with tact, despite her old habits as a thief. Taking a deep breath, she hid her scimitar beneath her robes and entered the temple.

Gnisis appeared to be a fairly small town, so Isa was surprised to see bedrolls laying practically everywhere. Carefully stepping over the bodies, she navigated her way in the dim torchlight through the entryway and into the main room, where more people were sleeping. While bestriding an Orc man and an Imperial child Isa wondered weather the head priest would be awake or not, or better yet would they be staying above or below her current location.

Before she lost her balance and ruined the mission, Isa decided to take the ramp up to where the Shrine of the Mask was kept. She looked around to find an Ordinator half-asleep at his post, and coming from above her she heard the scratching of a quill.

"Take the mask." A voice told her.

"Excuse me?" Isa whispered, recognizing the disembodied voice as Dagoth Gilvoth.

"Lord Dagoth wants you to wear Vivec's ash mask while you carry out your orders." Gilvoth scolded, not seeing what the confusion was.

Isa shrugged and walked up to the triangular pillar. She placed her hands on the cold stone and jumped back slightly as the center segment fell to reveal the stone gray ash mask. She eyed it with some regard, wondering what it was like to be entombed in an ash casket and weather or not it would fit her. Reaching up, she gripped the mask around the jaw and gave a gentle tug. With a burst of light and a bit of force the mask conceded to her efforts.

Just as the Ordinator was becoming aware of what Isa was doing she placed the mask over her face and felt a chill run down her spine. The Ordinators' yelling attracted the attention of the stranger above them, and when she looked up she saw a woman in light blue and yellow robes preparing to cast a spell. Isa charged the priestess with her scimitar tightly in hand, and just as a burden spell hit her square in the chest she unsheathed her blade and cut a swath from the priestess' chest.

The magicka that had been glowing in the woman's hands faded as she let out a howl of pain. With another swipe of her sword the woman's head fell to the ground with a fleshy splat as it hit the concrete. Metal footsteps caught Isa's attention as the Ordinator charged her with mace in hand. Isa knocked him off balance on the ramp with a swift kick, and as he stumbled back she brought her scimitar down upon him. The keen blade sliced through his armor, but slowed down as it lost momentum due to the finely crafted shell.

Isa yanked her sword from his torso and wiped the blood on the Ordinators' pants. She looked around idly and spied a torch lit on the wall. After sheathing her sword she calmly made her way over to the other side of the room and plucked it off of the wall. Isa touched the flaming torch to the many books in the room, and once they were all roaring she left and made her rounds in the rest of the temple. She lit everything that would burn: from tapestries, to chests filled with scrolls and alchemical ingredients, even the ash and bone pits on the lower level of the building.

The people residing in the building were beginning to stir as the flames spread. Some of them cried out feebly and tried to rise from their bedrolls, but fell back from the ash-chancre. Isa ignored them as she made her way out of the building and to the silt-strider.

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Caelestis and his men spent a good portion of the night questioning the people of Ald-Ruhn, but they came up short for the most part. Many of the men at Hawkmoth recounted seeing a stranger in a black cloak teleport out of nowhere, but they didn't know anything else about the criminal. It wasn't until Caelestis stopped in the Ald Skar Inn for a drink that an interesting lead came up.

"Yeah, I saw someone in a black cloak a few hours ago." An Orc said at the bar.

"Is that so?" Caelestis asked, not believing the intoxicated Orc.

"Yeah, I saw her talking to a half-naked Dunmer man just outside of town. There's a little hole just behind the Fighters' Guild that you can leave town by." The Orc slurred as he began to sway on his stool.

Caelestis stood up and left the Inn after tipping his server. He followed the Orc's instructions, all the while thinking that he was wasting his time. To his surprise, he saw a half-naked Dunmer man sitting by a signpost just outside of town.

"Excuse me," Caelestis said to get the man's attention, "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

The Dunmer looked up at Caelestis with a half-laded gaze.

"Right," Caelestis said, hand near the hilt of his sword, "A few hours back did you see someone in a black cloak go into town?"

"Of course," the man said grinning, "That was Dagoth Isa!"

"Dagoth... Isa?"

"Yes! Soon the world will know of Her! She is the heir of Lord Dagoth Ur! The Sixth House shall again rise with the arrival of Her!

Caelestis took a step back from the psychopath, "Where is she?"

"She went to Gnisis to spread the will of Lord Dagoth!" the man raved as Caelestis left.

Once in town Caelestis gathered his men and headed toward the silt-strider. After confirming that the Dunmer man wasn't a lunatic they all paid their fares and left for Gnisis.

Upon arrival the entire town of Gnisis was a massacre. Several corpses littered the ground. It was a macabre mixture of civilians, guards and ash creatures. For the next several hours Caelestis and his men fought to protect what remained of the town, which wasn't much since most of the people were sick in the temple.

Finally, as dawn broke over the hillside nearly all of the townspeople that had been killed had been properly buried, and the ash creatures' corpses were burned outside of town. Caelestis looked up from his plot as he heard the humming of wings nearing. A silt strider was pulling into port, along with a rider.

"Did a woman ride out of town wearing a black cloak?" Caelestis asked the man.

"No, but one did rush out of town wearing brown robes and a mask."

"Where was she headed?"

"Seyda Neen."


	6. Chapter 5: Redheaded Stranger

Ug, I haven't had much time to write with the start of term. I sort of ended this chapter with a ton of loose ends, but those will get wrapped up in the next chapter.

Okay, last chapter I meant to type "conceded" instead of "conceited". Problem solved, since I doubt a mask could have emotion enough to be arrogant.

Also, yes, a ton of bad Karma for Isa. It makes sense though, since joining a cult based on treachery, bloodshed and vengeance wouldn't appear to entail positive results.

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A Dunmer man was walking along the road from Balmora to Seyda Neen that evening. He donned a red beard and hair, shoulder-length and tied back with a band. He carried a netch whip in one hand and sported nothing more than something like a loincloth around his waist. At his side was a sack containing various alchemical ingredients and a mortar and pestle. By mere looks one could tell that this man was athletic, but he didn't have the size to denote his skill.

In actuality, he was an ex-member of the Comanna Tong. That very morning he had been expelled from the organization for failing to complete a job. His loyalties from then on were questioned, but having been a powerful member in the past he was saved from execution. Instead, he was stripped of nearly all of his possessions and then excommunicated. Other than being an assassin he also worked as a healer within the guild. He was called to Seyda Neen to cure someone holed up in Arrile's Tradehouse before their disease spread. Also, he had a chest with exquisite clothing and Dark Brotherhood armor buried under the swamp muck outside of town.

The silt-strider came into view as the man approached town. Instead of taking the road into town, he veered right and headed toward a large tree growing in the center of an algae-ridden, stagnant pool. The man tossed the mushrooms growing near the trunk of the tree aside and plunged his hands into the soft mud below the water. After some digging around his fingers scraped wood. A look of "Eureka!" spread on the mans face and he shoveled the mud faster, finally getting a decent grip on the handles of the chest. With little effort, the man carried the chest into town and stopped along the shore of the tradehouse. He washed himself and his armor before changing.

Sighing, he picked up his sack and headed into the tradehouse. The guards in town had been eyeing the man oddly due to his armor, so he thought getting a set of robes to cover himself would be a wise choice in the future.

"I'm glad a healer has finally showed up." Arrille said handing the man the red robes he had selected, "That woman upstairs is scaring off all of my business. But, I couldn't just chase her out on the streets. She's a pauper and has nowhere else to go."

"Well, hopefully I'll be able to cure whatever is ailing her." the man said.

His voice was pleasant and flowed like a diplomat's. Maybe he also worked as an orator within the guild, maybe he didn't. No one could really say they knew this redheaded stranger, and those that did know him certainly weren't talking, "What exactly does she have?"

"Ash-chancre." Arrille said nervously looking on his arms for signs of sores, "I swear, if I catch it from that woman I'll have her head. Do I look feverish?" Arrille asked the Dunmer, who just shook his head and made his way upstairs.

He entered the small room and nearly tripped over the bed. A small amount of light was coming into the room from a single grimy window and a candle on the bedside table. The man looked to the head of the bed and saw a forehead poking out from the covers. He reached out and pulled the covers back to find an olive-skinned Elf lying under them. A thin layer of sweat covered her brow and small sores were beginning to form on her face and shoulders. She opened her eyes at the sudden draft and nearly leapt back at the appearance of the stranger in her room.

"Who are you?!" she asked.

"You may call me Balabhas. I came here to cure you of your blight." The Dunmer said turning his face away.

Isa eyed the man with confusion, but then looked down at her naked torso. She gave a slight laugh, "It's okay, I'm not offended if you happen to ogle."

Balabhas instead turned his head toward his mortar and pestle as he measured out ash salts and scrib jelly.

"So," he began meekly, "How did you happen to get ash-chancre?"

"I was exploring a Sixth House base." Isa said. It wasn't entirely a lie, and it wouldn't reveal herself either.

"So, you're a bit of an adventurer then, um..."

"Isa."

"Right, Isa. Arrille said you came in looking like a pauper. Where is all of your armor, or your weapons?" Balabhas asked while transporting half of the paste to a loaned calcinator.

"I'm a mage." Isa lied. She didn't like how this man asked so many questions.

"Is that so? What type of mage?" he asked throwing willow anther and powdered emerald into the calcinator with the paste.

"I'm a monk."

"That's a highly unlikely profession for someone that likes to go risking their lives on a regular basis." Balabhas said with a wry smile while mixing shalk resin with the paste that remained in the mortar and pestle.

Isa looked thoughtfully at Balabhas as he worked. While pensive, she was also a bit indignant. Who was he, a complete stranger, to confront her, while sick, and have the audacity to be so bold? But then again, there was something about him that made her indignity a mere triviality. He seemed kind, polite, well-rounded... Oh no! Isa shook her head at her inane string of thoughts and decided to stare ahead of her.

"Why did you go into that Sixth House base anyway?" Balabhas asked, pulling both of them out of an uncomfortable silence that had lasted for a couple of minutes.

"I was going in search of the Robe of St. Roris." Isa said. She had never heard of the robe, but somehow the knowledge of it appeared in her head, "It's got healing powers you know."

"Yes, I've heard. Where is this base at?" Balabhas asked catching the vapors from the calcinator in a peach glass flask.

"It's southeast of here on a tiny island. There's a wooden door facing away from Seyda Neen, you can't miss it."

"I see... Well, I may have to check that out sometime." Balabhas said, and by "sometime" he meant when he was done concocting her potions.

Balabhas finished filling the flask and transported the paste to a small jar, "Drink this and apply this on the sores. You should be better by morning." He said pointing out the designated jars, smiling, as he left the room.

Completely ignoring Arrilles' cries of "Is she better?" Balabhas left the tradehouse and the small city. A small cave southeast of town... The knowledge of the Robe of St. Roris would have been a delightfully wonderful bit of information for any explorer, but Balabhas had other plans for it. If the famed robe could really restore life then he would use it to strike down those that expelled him from the Comanna Tong. The wounds their flimsy daggers and spells caused would be nothing after tapping into the magic of the robe. All within means of course.

Sure enough, the smallest island in the miniscule archipelago housed a wooden cavern door. Not knowing what to expect, Balabhas pulled the whip from his robes and uncoiled it. Instead of slowly inching his way into the cavern he flung the door open with a loud crack and strode into the cavern. He soon realized that with or without his commotion the Dreamer guarding the entrance would have noticed him.

It took little effort to acquire the spiked club from the Dreamer's hands. With a swipe of the club the scantily clothed Dunmer fell to the ground unconscious. Deciding that it would be a better idea to tackle this cavern prepared, Balabhas tried to open the wooden door from which he entered, but found that he was trapped.

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As soon as Balabhas left Arrille's Tradehouse the tattoo began to sizzle and pop. Dagoth Gilvoth had been monitoring the conversation between the Isa and Balabhas, and apparently Dagoth Ur was not pleased with Isa's thoughts. The job at Suran was placed in the hands of another, "more capable" member of the cult while Isa was told to report directly to Red Mountain. After downing the potion and applying some of the paste Isa clothed herself and jaunted to the silt-strider.

By the time Isa made it to Balmora night had fallen. With some apprehension, she passed Moonmoth and made her way north along the Foyada. Several cliff racers and other wildlife attacked her along the way, and had it not been dark she wouldn't have been so nervous. To top things off a violent ash storm had begun to thrash the craggy mountains near the Old Dwemer Bridge, making travel slow.

Of course, the piddling little ash storm she had walked through was nothing compared to the ferocity of Red Mountain. Isa had forgotten how horrible the winds were as she departed Citadel Dagoth few days earlier after her new agenda appeared. She had to squint as the crimson ash gathered in her hair and eyes. One premium was all of the Lesser Daedra and ash creatures wouldn't attack her now that she was in Ur's inner circle. On the other hand, the corprus monsters and other irritating beasts couldn't comprehend her artificial power.

Finally, after a difficult climb up the face of Red Mountain with only the help of Herreslakter (Isa had named her scimitar that shortly after the Gnisis incident) and small handholds Isa was finally staring down into the bubbling crater. She kept tightly to the scalding Dwemer constructs as she walked over to the entrance, stopping puzzled at the blocked door. The semi-sphere began to open with a slight scraping sound; and before she missed her chance Isa opened the round doors with a loud hiss.

The memories of her first visit to these ruins came flooding back to Isa with the smells. The same heavy, slightly rotting odor hung heavy in the air with the acrid haze of sulfur and dust. She made her way through the fairly small, yet complex ruin until she came upon Dagoth Gilvoth standing in the same unkempt room from before.

"Lord Dagoth wishes to speak with you directly." Gilvoth said, his face stolid.

Arching an eyebrow, Isa walked through the round doors, which closed behind her with yet another hiss. Small red candles were lit at the doorway and a bluish-white glow was coming from ahead of her. As she walked down the small incline Dagoth Ur slowly came into view. Isa stopped some yards away from him and stood waiting for him to speak.

"You have shown weakness within the past few hours." Ur boomed, his face impassive.

Isa pondered for a moment, and then remembered Balabhas.

"If you continue to cleave to those that do not believe, then how can you expect to adequately spread my gospel?" Ur continued, "As you can see, emotional displays will not be tolerated within the Order."

"I understand that, Lord, but I still haven't adapted to recent events. I can assure you that I will not fraternize with Balabhas from this day forward."

"As a mortal I know that you can not _assure_ anything. You are far from perfect. I currently have the man trapped in Assemanu, and that is where you will go. I will need to Robe of St. Roris for our plans, and if the man survives my kin, then I'll consider letting you keep him as a pet."


	7. Chapter 6: Shedded Light

Dang "Teen Titans"... Now that Slade is gone there is no obsession! I'll be bored with soft-core anime-esque programming!   
  
Also, it gave me the idea of trying out a new angle with my writing. How does a first person narrative from Isa's point of view for this chapter sound? Tell me if it sounds bueno... Did I say I'd clear up those loose ends "next chapter"? I meant the next chapter that wasn't a giant soliloquy...   
  
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While I grew up in the jungles of the mainland I have always been savvy when it came to other cultures. I would never scurry while muttering something about "Pellani" under my breath, unlike my predecessors. Even as a mere child in my fifties I would hide amongst the shadows and observe villages near the tribes' current location. I was amazed at the Neolithic settlements of the humans and widely-accepted Elven races, and I would wonder why my tribe was spending so much of its life blind from things like intellect and science, philosophy and religion, things that can truly enlighten a sentient being.   
  
As we moved to new lands I learned several languages and fighting techniques, and I prided myself in those. I never thought much of it, being a naïve youth in an uncivilized tribe of barely surviving anthropoids. It wasn't until I came of age that I realized my true potential. My bloodline had gained some status with the tribes' evolution, so what my father and his wives said was practically law.   
  
I was arranged to be wed to an elderly mer of the leaders' bloodline. He wasn't quite on his deathbed just yet, and he wanted a young wife to give him a son. I took a look at every other woman he had taken on and I literally ran. As far as biology went they were poor specimens, and after their failures with having children they had been doomed to a submissive lifestyle, waiting on that ungrateful plebian hand and foot and being the object of the tribes' scorn.   
  
I was literate, well versed in the bone machetes of our finest warriors and Hell-bent on making something of myself. I would _not _waste my life bearing children and then outliving my use.   
  
Some time before we had constructed crude rafts and traveled southward to the Somerset Isles. We shared partial residence with the Maormer of the area, and the Altmer were rude at best. I had wandered into one of their cities and took a look around. Ayleids are natural-born alchemists, so after collecting nearby ingredients and gemstones I sold them to the most dim-witted merchants I could find to make the best profit.   
  
I purchased a set of simple black clothing, took some classes in destruction and left town certain of my next move. Later, as the leader was arranging a search party for me, I appeared. Before my family, the chieftains and every other member of the tribe I pulled on the clothes I had bought and renounced my ancestry and heritage in Aldmeris.   
  
I used my remaining gold to teleport and ferry to the island of Vvardenfell, where my blooming trade as a thief could begin. I arrived in the port of Seyda Neen and quickly took the silt-strider to the metropolitan city of Balmora, where a Guild of Thieves was stationed. The various jungles did my sneaking abilities some good, and with practice in lock picking I quickly rose through the ranks. Gentleman Jim Stacy and I were close associates once I had shamed the other guildhalls skill-wise. I was sent on elaborate, exotic jobs and I also aided him in coordinating new members and other jobs.   
  
Eventually, he was ready to retire and return to Hammerfell, which meant leaving the guild in my hands. He left me with the gloves of the Bal Molagmer and offered to leave me his Daedric short sword as well. I politely declined, having up until that point been faithful to the weapons of my people. The machete made up of razor sharp bones of wild animals and set on a wooden handle with beads and straps, that was to be my weapon. Somehow, I couldn't stand the thought of leaving a part of my old life behind.   
  
I had gained fame, omnipresence and success as the guild master. But, there was still a part of my soul that felt empty; neglected... I had had the epiphany that perhaps remembering my roots was to blame, so the obvious thing I did was rid myself of my weapon. It wouldn't have done justice to sell it, no matter how much gold I could attain. So, I threw it into a lava ravine. If anything that action worsened my void. There was just something that didn't feel right. My cosmos were out of alignment and the universe was off balance.   
  
I decided to go out on a heist for the first time in ages since my ascension in the Guild. It would be a grand acquisition, far above stealing diamonds and cookbooks. I made haste to Mournhold and waited until the waxing hours of the morning before I made my move. I knew the royal family had wealth beyond reason, so I figured that would take my mind off of my problems. The robbery was a miserable failure, which I was expecting. I wasn't really after the wealth. The chase after messing up the robbery was the exhilaration I needed. For the moment.   
  
Then that fateful night outside of Balmora changed my life forever. Since then I have committed horrible atrocities, but I've never felt guilt or remorse about it. I derived a sick and demented pleasure out of the power that Dagoth Ur had given me. But, I wonder why he set me at the same level as his ash vampire kin. I have to be on my toes though, since I have no idea how difficult the tasks ahead of me will be. Especially since I still have human feelings.   
  
After the Gnisis incident... When Balabhas came to that cramped room in Arrille's Tradehouse and hand crafted those medicines for me... I deserved punishment for letting my guard down. Lord Dagoth seemed somewhat understanding with my predicament, but then had me towed off for punishment. Even as I think these words I'm being suspended upside down by my ankles over lava, restrained in chains that weaken me; my lips sewn together in some sort of symbolism. Despite this, I still hope Balabhas survived Assemanu. If I continue thinking fondly of him I'll never get the chance to rescue him.   
  
In a way, my past has never left me. My insides still tangle with rage and despotic emotions at my tribe. But, they are still _my _tribe. 


	8. Chapter 7: Cannibalism Is Tasty

Back! Back I say! Much w00t493. Anyway, from the looks of my life outside of the box I think updates will come... once every week, give some. But nonetheless! I'm trying to keep dust from gathering on this story, unlike some of my other ideas in the past. Such is the price for taking AP classes. :-   
  
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"Absolutely inexcusable!" Helseth raged. Caelestis had returned to Mournhold once Helseth had analyzed his report on Suran. Much like Gnisis, the Tribunal followers had been slaughtered, their temple desecrated and the head priestess made a gory example of in the archway. During an excavation of the remains a small basement room was found with a makeshift Sixth House shrine built in the center.   
  
"Your Highness, I can assure you that this menace is being sought after with all of the forces you've supplied me." Caelestis said teetering on his words. The urge to let loose the dogs of war with Helseth was becoming too much, "We've got enough proof to hypothesize that this is the doing of the long-extinct Sixth House faction. I've canvassed some informants and have come up with locations of prominent bases for this group."   
  
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Isa idly chopped the intruding mudcrabs into pieces as they attacked. Her feelings of attraction took quite some time to break, and by the time they had vanished the heat from the lava had begun to literally cook her from the inside out. Now, her emotions had been replaced with bitterness and rage. She adamantly swore that once she got her hands on that Balabhas...   
  
The smells in the cavern ranged from death to a sweet, comberry-ish scent. The crimson candles that had burned out over the days spontaneously re-lit themselves, their spent wicks burning with unnatural vitality. Isa was thankful for the red illumination as she sidestepped the rotting corpses of around six dreamers. Gilvoth had yet again invaded her mind and was instructing her to retrieve the Robe before tending to Balabhas, but while she paid him heed she no longer feared him after her face-to-face encounter with Dagoth Ur himself.   
  
Isa had wandered into a wide cavern with a small lava pool. A natural stone bridge curved its way over the lava and led to niche where a set of bells could be seen. She carefully crossed the bridge, mindful of the boiling gasses that would burst from the molten rock, and found the skull of an ascended sleeper sitting near a bubbling cauldron. Isa walked around a bit in the small area, taking note of the quartered plates filled with small wrapped corprus meat hunks, the red and black banners brandishing the round beetle crest, and the troth of random objects, ranging from fine glass boots to forks and knives.   
  
A small, glowing sapphire amulet was buried under a slab of human flesh, and upon closer inspection Isa noted that it too was engraved with Sixth House crest. She picked it up and placed it around her neck as she began to feel an erroneous sense of pride with her new faction. More digging granted her a lock splitter scroll and a potion of rising force. She quirked an eyebrow and looked to the ceiling above her. There was another strip of rock that led to a dead end on both ends, but near the wall a small wooden chest could be seen. Gilvoth screamed in Isa's mind that that chest was where the robe was located.   
  
Mechanically, Isa drank down the bitter tasting liquid and began to feel the effects of it immediately. She walked normally, but instead of moving forward she moved upward, and as she moved the chest came better into view. She squatted on the bridge in front of the chest and began to read the characters on the glowing scroll, one hand on the lock of the chest. The lock gave way with a small click, and when Isa made to open the chest a jolt of electricity went through her arm. Cursing, she prayed that that was the only trap in place and gave a sigh of relief when her good arm opened the lid.   
  
The Robe of St. Roris would have appeared average, even shabby to an extent had it not been an artifact. It was a plain green robe, but it glowed with powerful enchantments. Isa removed it from the chest, folded it and placed it into her sack with the Ask Mask, and slid off of the stone ledge. Her job done, Gilvoth gave her thoughts back to herself and left her about her business. She left the cavern and headed back down the tunnel, this time taking the path she was told to avoid when she first entered Assemanu.   
  
The corpses of a few more dreamers littered the ground before Isa came upon a high precipice. Looking down below, she could see the burnt-out body of a flame atronach lying askew. She turned her back to the scene and slowly climbed down the face of the wall. The area was a small one, and mere moments later Isa ran into a semi-delirious Balabhas with the corpse of an ash slave some yards away from him. Pieces of muscle were missing from the corpse, and judging from the grime covering his hands Isa concluded that Balabhas had been eating the ash slave to survive.   
  
The look in his eyes was wild and desperate as he spied Isa, "Thank the Gods you've come!" he exclaimed hysterically, "This door over here wouldn't open, and I couldn't scale the cliff leading the entrance! It's been days since I've seen the sunlight, and the only thing to eat around here is that wretched ash creature, and it passed its prime long ago!"   
  
At first Isa was glad to hear Balabhas making coherent conversation, but once he had started talking about how to properly season a ceramic bowl she knew he had reached the brink of insanity. After casting a simple sleeping spell Isa picked up the deranged Dunmer and teleported back to Seyda Neen. The city guards eyed her strangely as she awkwardly stood in the middle of the street trying to balance and look around Balabhas at an approaching guard.   
  
"This man needs to get to a temple and fast." Isa said half-setting, half-dropping Balabhas on the ground, "I found him in the Sixth House base southeast of here. From the story he had told me he had become trapped and had to survive off of an ash slave. Saw the corpse myself in fact, not pretty."   
  
Isa handed the guard her purse, which contained enough gold to get someone from Cyrodiil and back, "Keep the change!" she yelled as she teleported back to Citadel Dagoth.   
  
Gilvoth took the artifacts from her without so much as a word and ordered her to report to Vos within a weeks' time.   
  
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Fedris Hler looked squarely at the Dreamer sitting before him. Helseth had made Caelestis and his men go all the way back to Ald-Ruhn and bring the Dunmer they had spoken with to Mournhold so he could be questioned by the Temple (Given his obvious Sixth House connections).   
  
"Can I offer you anything?" Hler asked politely, "A drink, some food perhaps? You must be famished."   
  
"I live only off of the meat my corprus gives me." the Dreamer said with an absent look.   
  
Hler stepped away from the man, slightly panicked at the mention of corprus disease, and found it in best interest to hastily finish his questioning, "I'll be blunt with you. What is the Sixth House planning?"   
  
"You think that I, a devout follower of Lord Dagoth, would divulge such sensitive matters so easily?" the Dreamer said with a mad laugh, "I _can_ tell you that those that don't believe had better be on their guards. A new world order will begin, and Nerevar will fall!"   
  
"Nerevar you say?" Hler laughed, "You do know that that is false Ashlander prophecy, don't you? You've obviously been brainwashed."   
  
The Dreamer suddenly sat forward and slammed his fists on the small table, "No! Lord Dagoth knows for a fact that the Nerevarine is in Morrowind right now, and only his heir can destroy him!"   
  
"You're also telling me that the devil himself has a bloodline? Don't be foolish!" Hler laughed again. Deeming the man raving, he summoned a High Ordinator to make the Dreamer ready for life in the Corprusarium.   
  
"So you're telling me that the Dunmer was of no use?" Caelestis asked Hler as he emerged from the Temple. He seethed inwardly at the wasted trip he had to take.   
  
"I'm sorry, serjo, but the man was spouting nonsense about the Nerevarine, Dagoth Ur having an heir and other madness. It's the corprus taking over his mind." Hler said as Caelestis scribbled the information down for another report to Helseth.   
  
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Balabhas opened his eyes to the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. He cringed at the thought of another day trapped in that dank cave... Sunlight!   
  
Balabhas sat up abruptly, but leaned back jerkily on his elbows as his equilibrium tried to balance itself. Instead of laying on a hard stone floor he found himself in a soft and warm bed under a heavy comforter. A candle burned on the beside table next to a small bowl of water with a rag sitting in it and a rolled up piece of parchment. Curious, he picked up and unrolled the parchment and read its contents:   
  
Balabhas   
  
It seems that you were in quite the situation yesterday. It's fortunate that I found you before you starved to death, or worse went mad in that damned cavern. In case you're wondering, you're now sitting in the Balmora Temple, hopefully medicated and healed. I figured I should return the favor after you cured me of my ash-chancre. 

Isa


	9. Chapter 8: A Gnat With Corprus

Long overdue for an update with this I am. I think this chapter is a bit of a... "childish humor" break, I'll call it. Yay for immature humor dealing with sex! sweatdrops   
  
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Balabhas asked practically the entire town of Balmora if they had seen anyone matching Isa's description, but none claimed to have seen her. One lead took him all the way back to Seyda Neen, where the guards gave little help. He had been telling everyone that Isa was a pauper, poor in appearance, unarmed and with no gold to her name. Everyone he asked, though, told him that they had encountered a very green, very wealthy Elf. One of the guards handed him a purse filled with gold, saying that the Elf gave instructions to use the money to get him healed.   
  
After confirming that Isa's whereabouts were unknown, Balabhas wandered out of town on the road to Hla Oad. Evening was beginning to descend on that side of the world. A bright orange hue was spreading its way westward, pushing the light blue aside and bringing a deep purple in its wake. The slight chills of fall crisped the air and stirred the trees and swamp surfaces as the wind blew. There were few creatures out, save for the occasional scrib or cliff racer cry off in the distance. As he turned a corner on the beaten road a figure could be seen leaning against a post.   
  
"Greetings, Pet." The man said.   
  
Balabhas' stomach gave a turn at the sight of the dreamer. Though the man was a perfectly healthy Dunmer Balabhas could imagine him as an ashen, faceless figure with several pieces missing.   
  
"What did you call me?" he asked, realizing that he was being addressed in a diminutive manner.   
  
"Don't you know? You're a pet now, although your mistress hasn't thought of a good name for you." the Dreamer sneered.   
  
"Well, whoever this "Mistress" is, tell her that my name is Balabhas and I am no one's pet."   
  
"Oh, but you are. Go to the city of Vos in the north and ask her yourself."   
  
Balabhas opened his mouth to ask a question, closed it, opened it again and eventually decided to punch the Dreamer squarely in the jaw. He picked up the unconscious man by the scruff of his neck and tossed him into the swamp muck.   
  
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Isa walked at a slow pace as the morning sun rose over the hills in the Bitter Coast. At this particular time she was wearing a set of black robes issued by her ash vampire superiors. The robes were not strictly for wearing and served some sort of practical use. Isa mused that Dagoth Ur had some strange and somewhat tacky tastes in clothing, but it didn't really concern her. As long as they didn't cause her to sprout a third eye or have bizarre urges to eat plates.   
  
Isa had around four days left before she had to report to Vos, and she had been spending most of her time freelancing. She had done an array of tasks that ranged from getting cadavers for necromancers, to going into Daedric and Dwemer ruins for smugglers; she had even played matchmaker with an eccentric Khajiit woman and an Imperial. After doing tasks that either desecrated or harmed people Isa was beginning to feel like doing for the general good again. She had stopped to take a small rest in Hla Oad when she heard reports of mating netches to the north in Gnaar Mok. It seemed the one guard stationed in that city was too cowardly to assess the situation, and being bored, Isa decided to meander up the dirt road to kill off the netches herself.   
  
A slough fern next to her rustled and a kwama forager leapt out. It stopped just short of Isa's feet and began to spray her with poison. With an exasperated growl she kicked the beast away, frustrated that only small animals would attack her. She continued along her route, with the kwama following closely behind nipping at her heels.   
  
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Balabhas leaned against the small walls of the plaza of the stronghold. Despite having been expelled from his faction he still had some allies outside of the Dark Brotherhood, although they were but weak smugglers holed up in Hlormaren. With no luck in Seyda Neen he decided to bunk in the fortress for a few days, paying the rent with the purse the guard had given him some days before. While innocent of crime he was still a criminal by reputation, and no respectable establishment would keep his company, or take his money for that matter.   
  
Balabhas closed his eyes and let the morning breezes blow against his sweat-lined brow. Had awoken in the middle of the night with an anxiety attack after dreaming of dancing skeletons and couldn't sleep since. A bad feeling was nestled within him, along with a strong sense of nausea. A moving figure from below caught his eye as he quelled his stomach. He looked down to see a green Elf walking calmly along the road with a kwama forager tiredly chasing after it. Balabhas' eyes widened with gaiety and he vaulted over the wall to land with a thud right in front of the Elf.   
  
Isa leapt back with a shriek and gripped the pommel of Herreslakter, but released it when she realized it was only Balabhas.   
  
"By the Gods, waif, do you delight in scaring people half to death?!" Isa said with a high degree of anger.   
  
"Not normally, but you have to take into consideration that most people don't scare as easily as you do." Balabhas grinned.   
  
"Well, I've got a lot to be paranoid about these days." Isa said, then pointing to Hlormaren, "And besides, you don't know what kind of company stays in those old forts."   
  
"I do, actually. I've been staying there for the past couple of days. It's actually kind of nice when they stop trying to assassinate you during the night."   
  
"I see..." Isa said, turning from him and continuing to walk.   
  
"So, where are you headed?" Balabhas said closing the distance between the pair.   
  
"Gnaar Mok. There are some mating netches causing trouble, and I feel like taking care of them."   
  
"I see. Well, some couples tend to get a little wild when it comes to... taking a struttle."   
  
"A 'struttle'? What on earth is a 'struttle'?" Isa asked, shaking her head and keeping her eyes forward.   
  
"You know what a struttle is," Balabhas said, nudging Isa in the arm, "I can safely say I've had many varied struttles in my time." He said jokingly, "Have you ever struttled?"   
  
"That's none of your business."   
  
"So you have! Was he any good?"   
  
Isa clenched her teeth as they walked, wondering why Balabhas was following her so intently, "Maybe it wasn't with any man." She said. That would get him to leave her alone.   
  
"Not with a man? Oh, so you're one of THOSE types!"   
  
Or not, "Honestly, you're acting worse than the child of fools! Why are you following me?"   
  
"Well, I want to help you kill the netches." Balabhas said, "It will give me something to do before I get my affairs in order."   
  
"I see. Well, if you're in any better condition than when you were trapped in Assemanu then you should be of help." Isa said matter-of-factly.   
  
Balabhas stopped in his tracks and stared at Isa with shock and interest. He remembered the incident in that horrid cave, but to this day he still had no idea who had rescued him. Isa turned to face him with a confused and slightly annoyed expression, and in an instant Balabhas remembered prattling on about peach glass with that face looking down at him.   
  
"_You're _the one that saved me?" he asked.   
  
"Of course. You weren't the only one interested in the Robe, which I didn't retrieve by the way. I was too busy saving you! Now, stop gaping and let's now waste anymore time. It's still cool, and I don't want to hunt netch in the noon sun."   
  
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Caelestis sat bored on a crate holding a bottle of mazte. The chastisement he had received from Helseth still stung in his ears, but there were no leads in the case of the Sixth House. He watched as ships docked and unloaded passengers and goods into the port of Ebonheart. In his reverie he didn't notice the guard trying to get attention.   
  
"Didn't you hear me? There's been a corprus outbreak in the Bitter Coast." 


	10. Chapter 9: Confrontation

Sometimes sexual innuendo helps... :P And besides, after around two weeks of not posting _anything _I was beginning to feel like I was neglecting my readers. I love too much... o-o;;

Also, I've had an idea for an original story cooking in my head for the past day or so, and that has managed to snag my undivided attention.

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Corprus victims everywhere... The sights, the smells, it was disgusting. To the untrained stomach at least. Caelestis and the rest of his troupe waited outside of the high Telvanni tower of Tel Fyr while the two priests ventured into the Corprusarium to question the victims.

While he didn't want to admit it, Caelestis' stomach turned each time he read the very word "Corprus", and his nausea was made worse as the denizens of the Imperial Cult and Temple priests discussed the effects and compared thorough, explicit notes. If it were to spread that one of King Helseth's best was squeamish his reputation would be shot. Fortunately, Caelestis had the excuse of standing guard at the doors to keep him away from Fyr and his "daughters".

Caelestis watched as a small ship pulled into the port of the islet. The ferryman dropped anchor and placed a plank bridge in between the ship and the fungal ramp. Several lower-class fishmongers walked in clusters toward the tower in varying degrees of temperament. A few of the elderly citizens that were infected with the disease walked to the tower nonchalantly, while most of the young, able-bodied people were in hysterics. One Dunmer in particular caught his attention.

This man was evidently more well off than the rest of the group, which led Caelestis to hypothesize that the Dunmer wasn't from the same town as everyone else. At any rate he was fitting in with the hystericals quite well. The man had his heels firmly planted into the ground and was wailing as the ferryman helped a conspicuously dressed Elf push him toward the door. Caelestis looked at the woman, taking note of her appearance. Her black robes shone with a dark orange-ish enchantment. He especially took note of her olive complexion and frazzled black braids.

Could it be, "Isa." Caelestis said, slightly unsure of himself. His confidence boosted substantially when she turned at the sound of her name. He walked over to her and looked her in the eyes, "If you don't mind, I'll need to speak with you for a few minutes."

Isa said something to the Dunmer, and after a consoling pat on the shoulder she left the Dunmer and kept pace with Caelestis as he crossed the bridge to the neighboring islet.

"You're fully aware that you're wanted across the province of Morrowind for crimes against your King." He said as they walked.

"Helseth isn't _my _king. He's just the product of the Imperial takeover." Isa shot back pointedly, without the slightest hint of uncontrolled anger.

"So you worship the Tribunal gods then?"

"No, they are the product of the foolish hopelessness that has spread throughout the populace."

"Daedra?"

"Too pagan. Can we get to your point already?" Isa said stopping once the pair had hidden themselves safely behind a large rock.

"I'm no longer interested in your botched robbery." Caelestis said, his cold formality fleeing and being replaced by intense animosity, "What do you know about the Sixth House cult?"

"I know nothing," Isa said. Caelestis searched her eyes for signs of deceit, but finding none he let her continue, "I don't believe they exist in the wake of the Battle of Red Mountain. And besides, aren't the Tribunal and your King debunking the existence of that cult as superstition, just like the Nerevarine?"

"What do you know about the Nerevarine and the Battle of Red Mountain? How do you know that the governments are trying to cease the spread of rumors related to superstition?"

"I grew up in a tribe, I was always hearing about how you capitalists and religious zealots were taking over the world with your lies and corruption. It's all about conquest with your type. If the beliefs of a certain group clash with what your government's believes you take up arms and massacre them into submission."

"So you're saying you grew up around witchcraft and prophecy," Caelestis said; adding with triumph, "There were witnesses that testified to seeing you at each crime scene."

"Ashen skin takes on a greenish tint during the night, especially when orange flames are illuminating the person. I was born of Ayleid descent, and my skin doesn't appear ashen, does it?"

Caelestis raised his eyebrows, "How did you know there was fire?"

Isa rolled her eyes and laughed slightly, "Are you kidding? It's only the talk of taverns, council houses and practically everywhere else on this continent. There's no escaping what happened to those towns."

Caelestis and Isa locked eyes for several long, uncomfortable minutes. He thought Isa seemed candid enough, but her robes and an unseen aura told Caelestis a different story. He knew she was hiding something. Ironically enough, at that moment the hilt of a sword poked its way from the folds of her robes.

"You're armed?" he asked her, quirking an eyebrow.

"Of course. You can't trust people these days."

"May I see your weapon?"

"This is it," was the thought running through both of their minds at once. Caelestis knew that if Isa's sword was the ornate blade that had been described by the witnesses of the crimes then his chase would be over. Isa on the other hand knew the same thing, but wasn't nearly as blithe about it.

She unsheathed Herreslakter, and while her face didn't show it, she was surprised to see the plain iron saber-minus-the-metal-guard in her hand. Caelestis shared in the surprise, but his face visibly fell at the wanting weapon.

"Is that it?" he asked, hopefully.

"'Fraid so," Isa said, grinning, "I don't go after vampires, werewolves, homicidal Dwarven animunculi or Daedra; I don't need much."

Isa reached under her robes and produced a sack with nearly two pounds of gold in it, "I believe this will cover the fines in regard to my robbery attempt. And now, if _you _don't mind, I've got to get to the Corprusarium and do some comforting."

Caelestis slumped down at the edge of a nearby pond and stayed there for nearly an hour as the priests did their work. Deciding not to mope, he poured out the sack of gold and counted the pieces therein. Sure enough Isa was well over the bounty. He wasn't surprised, after all, she was the head of the Thieves' Guild and had money to throw into lave veins. A silver piece caught his attention, and when he picked it up a small round beetle was carved into one side and Dwemer writing on the opposite.

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In the meantime, Isa made her way warily down the winding ramp of Tel Fyr and into the Corprusarium. The warden warned her of the risks of abusing the patients (And just being in the quarantined area in general), and after swearing to follow the rules he let her pass.

Isa was bemused as she watched some of the new patients try and survive the harsh reality of their new environment. Several people were being backed into corners or running from the more developed corprus victims. She even saw a shirtless Breton man having his leg gnawed on by a lame corprus; apparently the two had foraged some sort of mutualistic relationship.

Isa walked into a small niche and found Balabhas on his hands and knees retching over a murky pool. When he appeared finished, Isa walked over and knelt behind him. She coiled her arms around his waist and laid her head in between his shoulder blades.

"I'm going to end up losing my mind." He said after a small silence, "I'm going to spend the rest of my life here and end up a paramour to one of the elder patients."

"No you won't," Isa said choking back the lump in her throat, "I'll come by as often as I can, I'll research the disease. I'll take care of you like you took care of me; I promise."

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The night sky was like a blanket of ebony as Isa met up with Dagoth Araynys outside of Vos. While drunk on the powers she had been given she had not lost sight of her intellect, and sometime during the boat ride to Vos she realized that it was the robes she'd been told to wear that had been the cause of the corprus outbreak.

"I want to know what the point of all of this is." Isa said in slight hysterics as she prodded Araynys in the chest repeatedly with an accusatory finger.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he replied, grabbing her wrist and throwing it back with considerable force, "You're breaking the will of the Tribunal followers. Already our Cause had gained several hundred members since their gods aren't coming to their aid. We're trying to keep this up to not only break their wills, but also to blot out the existence of the gods' themselves."

"So Ur is using me to do his dirty work? Not surprising..." Isa spat, although she was slightly amused.

"Think of it as him cutting out the middleman," Araynys said with a sneer, "Lord Dagoth is testing you to see if you're really worthy of your bloodline."

"My bloodline?" Isa asked taking on the curiosity of a young child.

"I'll be brief and vague: from the time you were born Lord Dagoth has held you at a higher status than even we ash vampires. I'll let you figure it out from there."

Isa nodded, "I see. I've got a couple of things I don't understand. First, why are we in Vos? I don't see any traces of the Temple here."

"The people of Vos are weak," Araynys said looking up at the farm town, "You will set their chapel alight, and since the town uses adobe instead of stone it will catch quickly. Also, the clustered layout will promote rapid spread of the fire."

Araynys cast recall, and after watching the remains of magicka dissipate Isa went into the tavern to get a strong drink before she set about her work, upset that Araynys left before she could ask about Balabhas.

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"I've got a question for you, Lord." Isa said once she had arrived back in Citadel Dagoth. Her face and hands were covered in soot and some blood, and blisters and bits of charred skin decorated her attire and skin.

This was the first time that Dagoth Ur and herself had met alone in the facility cavern aside from punishment.

"Yes?" he asked, face impassive as always with his voice sounding the slightest bit interested and amused.

"About Balabhas... You said I could keep him if I was loyal to you."

"And you will, dear Child. But in my terms. You see, while you may not understand it now, it has always been my will for you two to be together. I selected him since the time of your birth. It was I who called you away from your tribe, cleverly disguised as an independent will. He will undergo tests, and if he is as obedient and strong as you he will be your pet. I think Dagoth Mstislav has a nice sound to it."

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Hm, I'm not particularly liking the way I made Ur sound. If anyone has any tips on making him less OCC I'd be glad to hear them. o.o;;


	11. Chapter 10: Wolves and Punishment

Dagoth Araynys ash vampire located in Mamaea east of Gnisis. I pwnz0r j'411! Enough of that, now. Oo;;

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Thin snowflakes fell from the overcast sky and tangled themselves into the dense pines, and the brush and holly plants swayed gently in the frigid breeze. The grizzlies, wolves and irritating reiklings prowled the landscape searching out unwary explorers or wanderers as prey. The Imperials hadn't yet established a central highway system across the island, so the snow was knee-deep and unpacked on nearly the entire island.

"_You know, Dagoth Isa, your pet would really like this image of you." _Dagoth Ur mocked inside of Isa's mind as she trudged north.

"_Pressing ever-onward with your arms folded across your chest and snow trapped in your hair. It is very symbolic, this image of you. Dagoth Mstislav is a very poetic soul, he eats this sap up."_

Isa shook the blows from her mind, clearly focusing on the mission at hand. She had planned on visiting Balabhas at the Corprusarium, but just as she was boarding the ship to Tel Fyr she had been given orders to go north to Solstheim. There, she would travel to the Skaal Village, recover Hircine's Ring and Korst Wind-Eye at all costs, and then teleport back to Citadel Dagoth. It was a pretty simple plan, and it made her wonder why she was suddenly going on sorcerer gathering missions.

Thirsk began to loom on Isa's right when she reached Lake Fjalding. A warm fire and a tankard of mead were tempting her, and, deciding that the Skaal weren't going anywhere, she climbed the hill and walked through the heavy mead hall doors. Immediately she began to feel the warmth of the fire in the center of the room. The Nords standing about looked at her only briefly, and then turned their attention back to their own affairs. She walked up to Skjoldr Wolf-Runner, who pleasantly greeted her with a long speech, and she took her mead and sat on one of the benches in front of the fire.

No sooner had Isa taken a few sips of her mead, a Nord clad in mismatched bear and wolf pelt armor took a seat uncomfortably close to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, leery of the man's motives.

"I'm just wondering what such a thin wisp of an Elf like yourself is doing here in the bitter cold of Solstheim." The Nord said with a hint of suggestiveness in his voice.

"I believe that's none of your business... Um..."

"You can call me Erich. So, you say you've got business, huh? Well, how about you put off that business and spend a little time getting to know me better?"

Isa stared nonplussed at Erich, and then in an instant she was standing over him with her fists raised. The clamor of the denizens of Thirsk swirled around her, but the one noise that stood above the yelling in Nordic was the heavy clunking of metal boots coming from the stairs above her. Isa looked up and saw a small troupe of Imperial soldiers come into view. Her eyes widened in surprise and she dashed out of the tavern. Once outside she climbed up the main support beam and silently made her way out of sight on the roof.

Isa could hear several people come from inside the tavern, and moments later she could see torchlight fanning out south and westward. She cursed her sour temperament while she waited for the torches to fade from view. Just then, her right arm began to tingle slightly, and almost immediately her shoulder began to sear with pain. She reached up to touch the source of the pain, but pulled her hand back when it came into contact with warm blood.

"_You think you can procrastinate when you've been given an order?" _came Dagoth Gilvoth's voice, _"You should know by now not to take lightly your duties. Now, as punishment you will be denied the use of your right arm."_

Isa snorted, slightly irritated at her lack of privacy. Although, she was slightly surprised at the sudden attack on her arm. Up until that point Isa had forgotten completely about the beetle tattoo she had been given, but the blood exuding from her arm was a solid reminder of how she could be handled at a distance.

The light having abated, Isa slid off of the roof. She landed with a yelp of pain when her arm jerked. Her right arm wasn't numb or immobile, but at the slightest provocation her eyes would tear up in pain. The climb, or rather limp up the hill above Lake Fjalding was arduous at best, and by the time Isa was past it her arm was dully throbbing with pain.

The Skaal eyed her with misgiving as she limped toward the Great Hall holding her arm. While they didn't trust her they also didn't see the petite, wounded Elf as much of a threat.

Isa walked through the doors of the Great Hall and saw an aged Nord sitting on a throne-esque chair. He had shoulder-length graying hair and wore a serious countenance as he surveyed Isa through smoldering eyes. Gilvoth told her that the man was Tharsten Heart-Fang, the current bearer of Hircine's Ring. That's who she would need to kill in order to complete her mission, but the Honor Guard standing to her left presented a slight problem.

"What brings you to my village?" Heart-Fang asked her in a clear voice.

Instead of replying Isa unsheathed Herreslakter and held it unsteadily at her side. She charged Heart-Fang, but was tackled in the process by the Honor Guard. The pair flew into a bench and then landed with a thud on the floor. Isa winced as she felt her arm twisted underneath her, knowing that that would be painful a few hours later. She twisted underneath the guard and swung Herreslakter blindly. Isa could hear the guards' blood splatter on the wooden floor, and with a few more swings the man went limp. She stood with some difficulty, throwing the corpse from her torso and letting it fall into the burning fire.

"So you've come after me, then." Heart-Fang sneered, "I'm afraid you'll have a bit of trouble, lass."

Heart-Fang brandished a toothy grin. Coarse, black fur began to sprout from his face and hands, and his eyes turned a yellow hue. His face slowly transformed itself into a muzzle and sharp fangs replaced the incisors and molars of his human mouth. Isa watched the transformation with morbid interest as Heart-Fang's chest and limbs grew and twisted themselves into a more canine appearance. The armor he had been wearing had splintered and fell from his form in pieces, and when the transformation appeared complete he turned to Isa and growled.

Isa had to admit, in werewolf form Heart-Fang was nearly too much for her. In a matter of seconds he had her pinned to the ground. With a snarl, he flexed his arm and took a swipe at her face. The skin tore in deep gashes, but healed over the moment it had separated. Frustrated, Heart-Fang opened his mouth and brought his jaws to clamp over Isa's throat, but before he could follow through Isa had impaled him with Herreslakter.

Heart-Fang howled and lurched back in pain. Given a small opportunity, Isa struggled to her feet and hobbled over to Heart-Fang. Dagoth Ur had seemed to enjoy watching Isa suffer, because at that moment her tattoo crept. Isa yawned widely as her eyes threatened to close on her. She stumbled toward Heart-Fang and swung her sword weakly, just barely grazing his arm. She could feel him grip her coat and throw her several feet back, but couldn't retaliate as sleep began overtake her.

'I'm going to die here,' Isa thought to herself as the world around her faded, 'and if I do somehow manage to survive I'll have Ur to deal with. Well, forget this...'

Isa sat up seconds later as electricity coursed through her body. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, the smell of blood and charred flesh wafting in her nostrils. She blinked away the duct meat and saw the fruits of her labor. The Honor Guard's corpse lay half-blackened in the grate, and Heart-Fang lay in two pieces by the stairs of the Great Hall. Isa pondered on the battle and wondered how Heart-Fang had been defeated, and then it dawned on her: before she blacked out she had thrown Herreslakter. Not because she wanted to continue fighting, but because she had wanted to sleep, and she realized she couldn't do that with a sword in her hand.

Hircine's Ring sat coolly on her right index finger. Isa looked down at it and grinned; half of her mission was complete. After she retrieved Herreslakter she made her way from the Great Hall, and was bombarded by the rest of the Honor Guard. They asked her several run-together questions, addressing why she was covered in blood and why she was injured. She told them that the Honor Guard had attacked Heart-Fang, and that she mediated.

"May I speak with Korst Wind-Eye?" Isa asked the crowd.

A man wearing shabby brown robes stepped forward. Isa reached out with her good arm and clasped his wrist, casting recall to Citadel Dagoth.

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Should I make her a werewolf?


End file.
